After the Summer of Love: Secrets and Shame for a Mother in the 1960s
Estimated reading time: 9 minutes
They say once you offer up your pain and suffering to a higher power, trust that the Universe will come through for you. I asked…and received a miracle.
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Summertime in 1967 would go down in history as the Summer of Love. An incredible era that resulted in changes of moral and societal values, music, art, and life. Hundreds of thousands of Baby Boomers were coming of age determined to challenge the status quo. Our country and the world would never be the same. My own world would never be the same for another reason.
I turned eighteen in May of 1967. Captivated by what was happening around the world, I watched the national news, mesmerized by the flower children in San Francisco; I longed to join the marches and rallies condemning the Vietnam War and fight for civil rights. I yearned to be part of the women’s movement, dreaming of being a young woman with purpose, making a difference.
None of those things would come to fruition that summer because I was hidden away in a Maternity Home for Unwed
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